


Bittersweet

by Multifangirl69



Series: The sins of Spider-man [1]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man Far from Home - Fandom
Genre: Bondage, Extremely Dubious Consent, Hand Jobs, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 09:23:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19720840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multifangirl69/pseuds/Multifangirl69
Summary: Peter wakes up from being drugged and finds himself tied up by Quentin Beck. He doesn't want to enjoy this, but he's desperate and Quentin gives him just what he needs.





	Bittersweet

**Author's Note:**

> I watched Far from home like two days ago and I'm still in shook about how good that movie is. Quentin Beck is such a snack, I love him and I love his and Peters relationship. It's so good! I actually ship them more than Peter/Tony and here I thought Starker is my OTP...Oh well, Mysterio is just too good <3  
> Btw. This is part of my 100 Kink collection and was supposed to be for the kink Bondage, but...there isn't actually that much bondage...so...sorry vwv

Peter wasn't sure what had happened. Pictures of the night before flicking too fast, making his mind spin as he tried to focus. Flashes of a big monster spewing fire, the heat filling every part of his body. Fear and worry, he had almost forgotten, when he saw the unmoving body of Mysterio.

And the relief when seeing the mans smile.

Peter couldn't shake off the sickening sensation burning in his lungs. Every limp feeling slack, too heavy too move. Something was pressing into his skin. Tight and restraining even through the numbness crawling through him.

Instead of trying to fully awake from his deep slumber, he went through the pieces of memory again. Blurry images of a dirty bar. The sweet taste of lemonade melting on his tongue too fast, leaving him sour. 

They had talked and talked. 

Everything about Quentin too clear in his mind. His smile, his voice, the strong hands ghosting over his shoulder, arm, down to his thighs. Sensation of touches lingering, burning, branded into his skin.

And then dizziness clouding his mind. Something filling every sense. Quentin whispering something. Soft spoken words, dripping like honey. But something wasn't quite right. The sweetness artifical.

"Don't worry, I'll take good care of you."

Peter was sure he was drugged. He heard enough about the effects. And how he became weaker, fatigue crushing his body, it was too obvious. The world had started to spin around him. Circling like a tornado, swallowing him into darkness.

And now he had woken up with a pounding headache. A mind filled with little things he hadn't fully realized before. How Quentin looked at him, with hunger comparable to a predator. A lion watching the zebra, stalking, awaiting the right moment to pierce his sharp teeth into the preys soft flesh.

Maybe Peter should have known from the start. Maybe he should have been more careful. But Quentins kind words, carefully chosen, just what Peter needed to hear.

And here he was, unsure of what's to come.

At least the feeling came back into his limbs after a while. He carefully moved his fingers, the strain of it all making him groan. A noice reached him. Close. But not something to focus on. He lifted his right arm. Or at least tried. Something was holding his arms tightly pressed to his back. 

Carefully he rolled onto his back, feeling the same pressure against his chest. It would be an understatement if he said it was uncomfortable laying on his arms like that. At least a thick mattress underneath was softening it all.

Another groan escaped his burning throat as he opened his eyes. His vision blurred against the white light. He shifted in his position, noting that at least his legs were free. A few more times he had to blink until his eyes adjusted to the new brightness.

"Finally awake, huh?" Peter caught his breath in surprise. The familiar voice was close, but he couldn't find the source. His head strained against the movement as his eyes searched the room. Bland walls coated in a dark grey was all he could see.

"You're still not free. That means the drug is doing its job." Amusement dripped with the words. 

Peter tried to lift himself up, fruitless attempts. He could only lift his head, breath shaky from the pain and heat.

And there he was. Quentin Beck. Just sitting there on the edge of a desk, watching Peter with the same hunger as before. A need, Peter didn't want to decipher. Just the implication of it all churning something unwanted inside him. Not hate, not anger. The filling heat from the same need.

It had been there from the first conversation, from the moment Peter felt Quentins warmth as they shook hands. This desire he knew too well. This desire he had never acted upon when he first felt it with Tony.

Maybe it had been the reason for Peter being so blind and welcoming the man into his life like some naive child. He would never change. Too desperate. Too lonely. The pain tearing him wide open, wide enough to make him desperate for something to fill the hole.

And Quentin knew. Peter was sure he knew.

"What is going on here?" Peter asked, ignoring how every word burned in his throat. He shifted again, finally aware what was restraining him. Bright green ropes. They held him so tightly, but Peter could rip them apart. If it wasn't for the fact that his strength was gone. The drug, if Quentins words were anything to go by.

"I do want to apologize. That wasn't my plan," Quentin cooed, lifting himself from the table.

Peter watched him come closer, not able to stop his eyes from trailing downwards, realizing the man was wearing nothing except tight fitting underwear. Under his usual costume no one could really tell his actual body, but god, was it satisfying to see. Broad shoulders, strong arms, just enough muscle to make Peter feel self conscious.

No, he had to stop thinking like this. He forced himself to look up, trying to match the casual determination in Quentins face. But he could feel the warmth in his cheeks.

"Just let me go," Peter spat, shifting away from Quentin as he dropped onto the bed. Not that it actually helped. The man grabbed one of Peters ankles, holding him back. His other hand trailed along the exposed skin. Peter hadn't noticed he was naked until now.

"Stop! What are you doing?" The fear in his voice surprised him. Quentin chuckled.

"Aww baby, don't be shy," he purred, tracing Peters leg with ghosting fingers as he pratically crawled over the boy. Of course Peter struggled, kicking weakly against the mans body. He felt like before the spider bit him. Before he was able to lift a whole car. Just a weak child, tied up like some christmas present.

There to be eaten by the lion above.

"You're too cute. As I said, this wasn't my plan, but you're too big of a temptation to resist," Quentin continuted, pinning Peters legs down into the mattress. His eyes roamed over the pale body, taking in every little thing. Every scar, every mole, the way his muscles moved under flushed skin while Peter kept shifting underneath him.

"Stop! Just-" Peter swallowed, hoping to get rid of the shaking "Untie me, please!"

"But you look so good, baby," Quentin hushed and let go of Peters right leg to explore the flushed skin further. 

No struggle followed, only a small moan escaping the pink lips. The mans fingers pressed into his flesh, leaving burning trails. It felt too good. Almost comforting through the confusion and fear.

"See? You want it too," Quentin whispered, leaning over the smaller body. Peter returned the lingering gaze, choking on another moan when he felt long fingers wrap around his dick, making him aware that he was already half hard.

"That's not tr-" Quentin closed his mouth over Peters to silence him, his fingers stroking and rubbing the cocks sensitive skin. Peter moaned into the kiss. Quentin took advantage of the way the boys mouth opened with the small noise and pushed his tongue inside. Another moan, muffled against the invading flesh.

All Peter tasted was beer. Strong bitterness filling his senses like thick fog. Combined with the pleasure and heat from the hand stroking his twitching cock, Peter felt all the worry melt away, leaving him aching for more. The cutting tightness of the ropes kept his hands pressed into his back, making it impossible for Peter to follow his need to explore the broad body above. All he could do was arch his back, shifting until he felt skin against skin.

Quentin pulled back, just enough to break the kiss, but lingered close enough that Peter still felt his hot breath against his red kissed lips. Heavy like his own.

"So innocent. So sweet. I want to devour you," Quentin murmured, biting Peters lower lip, eliciting another deep moan. His teeth wandered, leaving a trail of marks from his chin, down his throat, to the boys collarbone. All while his hands still worked Peters cock.

He increased the pressure, fingers and palm practically massaging the twitching flesh. Another honeyed moan when his thumb pressed against the head, catching a drop of precum.

"Yes, you're so good for me. Such a good boy."

Quentin sat back upright, his gaze never leaving the boys face. The pleasure twisted the soft features. Through a haze Peters eyes dilated until the black swallowed every bit of brown. His red kissed lips quivered with every needy sound. The pale skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat. His brown hair left a mess as Quentin ran his free fingers through it.

Peter could only take the observing stare, his head empty. Only the pleasure circled his thoughts, the heat boiling in his guts almost too much to handle. He was melting under Quentin, with every word, every touch. He couldn't deny how good it all felt. Even the pressure of the ropes against his naked skin leaving only more glee. He didn't mind the numbness in his arms or the fear clawing somewhere in the back of his mind.

Only the hand on his cock and the deep voice, complimenting him over and over again, was important. His own voice was so needy with every sound he made. Moans and whimpers slipped from his lips. Growing in volume the closer he got to the edge.

"Come for me, baby. Show me how good you feel," Quentin cooed, pulling at the rope under Peters chest. The gesture forced the boy to arch his back again. More pressure against his arms and back, the rope cutting painfully into his already reddening skin. Again and again, Quenting pulled and let go, adding to the stimulation.

The heat became overwhelming and for a moment, Peter only saw white. He felt something sticky coat his stomach, fingers milking him of every drop. 

And then just his own shaking body.

As his breath calmed, the lingering pleasure twisted into scorching shame. The realization what just happened crawling into his mind and filling every dark corner. He blinked away the haze and starred back at Quentin.

"You...I hate...you..." Peter breathed, shifting and pulling at his restraints again, groaning at the unpleasent feeling of the ropes rubbing against his flesh.

"Oh, that hurts, baby. You don't mean it." Underneath them the bed creaked as Quentin leaned back down, this hunger glimmering in his eyes again. Peter couldn't look away. He just starred into the blue abyss.

Quentin was right. He was always right.

"You loved it. You love me. Come on, say it. Say you want more," Quentin hushed, voice so soft. A siren song luring him. Telling him to let go. And Peter did.

"Please, Mister Beck...I...I need you," he croaked, accepting how the abyss swallowed him whole when he was pulled back into another greedy kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment if you enjoyed this <3


End file.
